


Loose Lips in the Tavern

by nickdaman6



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Bard - Freeform, During Canon, F/M, Telling a Tale, multiple one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickdaman6/pseuds/nickdaman6
Summary: Ah, so you wish to hear another tale? The one before did not satisfy you? Of course not, you are an inquisitive one, after all. Well, there are more tales to tell about the Octopath Travelers, before their journey ended, before they defeated the darkness that plagued Orsterra. An adventure? Not as much as one would think, but a tale of their bonds. It all starts in a cold tavern...





	1. Tale One, Ophilia

"Thank you."

"Of course, Lady Ophilia. Anything for one of the daughters of the Archbishop."

The barkeep held his tray in front of him, bowing shortly before leaving the sister to her sequestered corner. Though hidden, the booth was still warmed by the fire lit inside the tavern. Rarely did the young sister visit such an establishment, for drinks or otherwise. But, having willingly taken on the title of Flamebearer – and the subsequent duties that came with it – as well as the imminent death of her sole parental figure, Ophilia needed a moment to collect herself. It just so happened that some mulled wine, and possibly pleasant conversation, would help to subside her woes.

If she needed more reasons, then wasn't chasing off the cold winter's wind that was blowing outside enough? Or that she couldn't face her adoptive sister, Lianna, as she watched over their father? She had to escape somewhere to wait out the storm before her journey.

Wasn't that enough? Just a moment to sneak away and unshoulder her heavy burdens without the worry of her sister or father hanging over her?

Wasn't that enough?

Not wanting to think on the topic anymore, and sniffing her unshed tears away, Ophilia took a comforting sip of the hot beverage. The wine immediately helped to calm her thoughts, warming her spirit, readying her for the journey ahead.

She giggled before taking another sip. "Hm, tingly."

Though indulged by the clergymen and women of the Order of the Flame only every now and then, spirits such as this wine, when enjoyed diligently, were boons to help those weary few who had shouldered too much or felt to little. To the Order of the Flame, these drinks helped to – so to speak – reignite the fire of their spirits to once again dedicate themselves to Aelfric, Flamebringer.

In Ophilia, with each sip, she felt her diligence surrounding her like a shield once again. Yet, thoughts continued to plague her, breaking it down bit by bit. Her main concern was that she was alone. Of course, she had a Knight Ardante accompanying her (who was currently buying supplies), but only to the Flatlands. From there, she would truly be on her own. A part of her welcomed the challenge and readied her kindness to help those in need whilst on her journey. But another part of her yearned for a more permanent traveling companion. After all, on the road, life by oneself could become too lonesome to bear. Ophilia knew this well.

She sighed, dancing her finger along the rim of her half-full glass, thinking what lay ahead of her. With her melancholic mind continuously battling against such thoughts, she felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into the pit she had dug herself.

Time for another sip.

With it came a small flicker of courage, desperately trying to light Ophilia's dimmed soul. It caught, but only the young cleric could fuel, or dampen, her strong, kind demeanor.

Her finger switched from the glass to twirling a strand of her long blonde hair. Something she did often whenever in thought.

"Everything is falling apart," she muttered sullenly. "And yet… I am tasked to carry this flame, just as His Excellency twenty years ago. My heart wishes me to stay, to help Lianna. But…"

There it was. Her eyes widened as she came to her discovery.

Thinking back to her many conversations at the Church, she remembered what they had said about her:

You are so kind, Ophilia.

Some days, I lack strength, but, my dear, when you are around, kindness wins over and I regain my energy.

Phili, you wish only to share everybody's burdens, to care for everyone. Thank you…

"…but I am doing this for everyone's sake. If I did not, then would I be able to face them? Would I be able to face His Excellency and my sister?"

But, the most important question was:

"Would I be able to face myself?"

Ophilia lamented on these thoughts for a long while, sipping her drink as she did so.

Of course, she knew the answer already: no. However, she continued mulling over the questions. Even as she did so, her confidence continued to rise, along with her assurance that she was doing the right thing. That alone filled her with more strength than she ever knew. Now, her goal was clear, her reasons equally so, but there was one more problem to tackle before she could depart Flamesgrace:

Would she be able to complete her journey alone?

Just then, a gust of wind blew through the tavern as the door to the establishment burst open.

Everyone's eyes turned to the man who would create such a ruckus. Even if this was a tavern, this was also Flamesgrace, where those drinking still held themselves with the propriety expected of them in such a holy town.

Yet this burly man cared not, walking in heftily with thick, leather boots towards the bar. A coat decorated his shoulders, while a beard hid his face well enough to mask any expression he wore. The unknown figure brought his hand up to the bar, revealing a generous amount of leaves as he removed his fingers. The barkeep understanding his meaning, and without flinching, procured a bottle of ale double the size of a pint. Whether the proprietor of the tavern knew this man, or not, no one could say. Everyone else couldn't recognize him.

Beverage of choice in hand, he turned around to examine the tavern. It wasn't long before his eyes laid on Ophilia. There, they stayed. With a nod, he stomped over towards the young cleric. Only a few steps of his boots and he sat down across from the sister.

People wearily watched, ready to step in to protect the adopted daughter of the archbishop. But as he stared her down, she matched his gaze with her own intrigued eyes. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was morbid curiosity. Whatever the reason, Ophilia continued her attempt at reading the unknown man.

Before she could come to any conclusions, the man laughed heartily, slapping his knee and almost knocking Ophilia's drink off the table in the process. The air seemed to warm at the sound of his cheerful bellowing. Some patrons chuckled along with him, as the daunting image of the man melted away to reveal a warm soul. Still, few watched to make sure it wasn't a ruse. With a nod from the barkeep – who was smirking all the while – even they started feeling comfortable with the newcomer.

For the time being, though, back to Ophilia and her guest.

"What an entrance! 'Tis always best to leave those 'round you gawking or interested," the man spoke, turning every which way to examine those in the tavern. "Hmph. Seems I've done both. Nonetheless, what a way t' make yourself known 'round these parts. Wouldn't you agree…?"

"Ophilia Clement," she supplied, keeping a small smile.

"Miss Ophilia. It is miss, yes?" With her nod, he continued introductions. "The pleasure's all mine, miss. Sorry for the damp blanket I was on the evenin', but as I said: an entrance is everything 'ere. You shall learn that on your adventure, 'm sure."

The still-unnamed man took a swig of his drink, clearing the amber-colored bottle of liquid past the neck. Ophilia, though, did not stare aghast at the man for that reason, but instead for how he deduced that she was departing soon to complete her pilgrimage.

"How did you…? When…?" the cleric stuttered, caught off-guard by the burly man.

He turned, addressing the sister matter-of-factly. "Hm? Oh, ya see everyone journeyin' tends to have this… air 'bout them. Yet, these signs are different from person t' person. For you, well, it seems you're determined, strong. How you hold yourself, though, bleeds kindness, a want to help those 'round you. Coupled with your priestess robes, and I can tell you're 'bout t' journey somewhere far, miss."

Ophilia was stunned, but recomposed herself after a drink of her wine. "That is correct, actually. I am impressed by your skills, mister…?"

For a moment, the man thought to himself. "Can't say yet, Miss Ophilia. Have not picked a name out for ya. Though I will 'm sure by the end of our meeting. First, though! Hm…"

The unnamed man took a drink and then stared directly into Ophilia's eyes, once again catching her off-guard. They held each other's gaze for only a few moments before the man, a gloom dimming his pupils, focused his attention on the table.

"A lot of doubt there for someone so young, 'twould seem. Not doubt in those around you, that's where you pour your belief into. The doubt stems from yourself. Spare me the specifics, as you seem troubled, but may I ask why?"

Understanding this was what the man did, Ophilia was not surprised. Perhaps it would help her. In her relaxed state from the wine, who was she to turn down such help?

Due to this fact, and her non-confrontational, friendly attitude, the cleric intended to reply. Instead, she thought on the question, wondering where she ought to start. No one place seemed right, yet neither did one place seem wrong. She could start anywhere in her tale and answer this man's question.

Then it hit her: why revisit her tale when she could start here instead?

Drinking the last of her mulled wine, Ophilia replied, "I am alone on this journey, my pilgrimage. I sit here, pondering on if I am strong enough to do this alone, for I see no one staying by my side throughout. I am afraid, without the strength of those around me, that I will fail."

Her confession came out smoothly, not missing a beat. Talking to this friendly stranger, airing out her worries relieved the troubled cleric. Even now, she felt a calming presence having shared her burden. If only she could do so throughout her pilgrimage.

The man let out a deep breath. "We all feel such doubt during troubled times, miss. 'Tis a thing we must undergo, a trial we must overcome, in order t' proceed in our own, separate ventures. But worry not. For I see it in you."

"Might I ask what that is?" Ophilia questioned with a strong curiosity.

Through his beard, the cleric swore she saw a smile. "Your warm nature. The ability t' help whoever, wherever, and the ability t' receive that aid in turn. You're someone who cares deeply, but wishes t' do the same for others. With that attitude, 'twill not be long 'fore you find someone joinin' you on your pilgrimage, Miss Ophilia."

With those words, the man stood from his seat, leaving behind an empty bottle and a few extra leaves. "I came 'ere t' find a tale, and I believe I did just that. Now, there are seven others 'round this continent who will help you. You'll find 'em in time, strung together by fate. A blessing, indeed. Enjoy these travels, and those who tarry with you, for 'twill be the time of your life. Hardships await, Miss Ophilia, but so much more is at the end of it all.

"When times are dark, do not forget t' turn t'wards the end of the tunnel t' see the light, nor be 'fraid t' walk back to it."

The man started to make his way to the door. Stunned by his words, Ophilia stood from her seat and called out to him.

"Wait! Sir, how do you know all of this?" she asked after him.

He continued walking, tapping the side of his head. "A great bard knows his tale, even 'fore it has begun."

"And your name?"

The man stopped at the doorway and spared Ophilia a glance, giving her an unseen, warm grin. He chuckled heartily. "I was right, I found it. Name's Teller, Miss Ophilia. 'm eager t' see where your pilgrimage takes you."

Then the door closed behind Teller, leaving a warmer tavern and happier costumers. Once departed, the barkeep passed out drinks to everyone, saying it was courtesy of the bard, himself. A mulled wine was brought over to Ophilia. For once, she partook in a second drink, but continued to stare at the door. Seconds passed, then minutes, until the Knight Ardante came through the door, informing the cleric it was time to depart.

As she readied herself to leave, she felt a sense of pride in herself. For Ophilia, who was only hours ago dreading undertaking this pilgrimage alone, now knew she would not be. Around the continent, there were others waiting for her, to share in the trials and tribulations, laughs and bonds, good times and bad that came with a journey such as hers.

So, when she stepped outside of the tavern, staff firmly in hand, the winter storm parted, revealing a promising sun.

The Knight Ardante asked, "Are you ready, Sister Ophilia?"

She smiled gently. "More than I could ever have been."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_The storm looming in Ophilia’s heart had passed, swept away by human means:_ **
> 
> **_the prolific bard, Teller, raising her spirits as he regaled her with the future of her pilgrimage._ **
> 
> **_Neither did the cleric know if he was right, nor did she know if he was wrong, but it aided her all the same._ **
> 
> **_She decided that those who would join her, she wished to know._ **
> 
> **_Those she knew, she wished to befriend._ **
> 
> **_From those friendships, Ophilia would not be able to guess as to the bonds she would forge by comforting fires._ **
> 
> **_Yet, her story, as with seven others, would intermingle in unknown, memorable ways, all it would take was a tale or two._ **
> 
> **_In order to warm herself and begin her travels, she ventures forth towards Atlasdam, where her tale shall continue…_ **
> 
> * * *
> 
> **So begins the tale of “Loose Lips in the Tavern.”**
> 
>  


	2. Tale Two, Cyrus

Admittedly, Cyrus Albright had trouble interacting with those of the fairer sex. That could be discerned from a simple conversation with the young scholar. However, it didn't come across as rude or indecent in anyway; instead, it was the fact that he didn't know when his flattery started to cross the line, turning from simple complements to flirting. Yet it seemed Cyrus never noticed such small trivialities, instead saying as he thought and focusing on his studies. This caused him no shortage of issues with his students. Which is what brought him to where he was now: at the local tavern in Atlasdam, enjoying a chilled glass of port, on temporary sabbatical from the university.

In the end, it all worked out, allowing Cyrus to conduct his own field research around the continent of Orsterra. Even more convenient was the appearance of his newest travel companion who helped to track down and retrieve a stolen tome from the university archives. Using their magic together, Cyrus found he and Ophilia were quite the dynamic duo.

"You are as skilled as you are beautiful," Cyrus had commented in the catacombs, receiving a blush from the sister in turn.

After having seen the professor's interactions with his student, Therese, as they left, Ophilia had deduced that was simply his analytical mind not understanding the emotional impact of his words. It was then, as they left to the tavern to celebrate their victory, that she had heavily sighed, shaking her head.

"Not a flirt, just unaware of his words," she had mumbled.

Now, they were both enjoying a glass of port favored by Cyrus, who chilled his with his ice magic, while Ophilia was happy to enjoy the drink at room temperature.

"Tell me about yourself, Miss Ophilia. I do wish to know about my traveling companion before we depart to more fruitful pastures," Cyrus began as he took a sip of his wine. "From Flamesgrace, yes? Must be a terribly cold place."

The sister smiled softly. "Indeed, but we have Aelfric's Flame to keep us warm. It is quite convenient, but also warms weary souls, which is why I am on this pilgrimage. After all, Flamesgrace isn't the only sanctuary of the faithful."

"Of course, my dear. I have always found the power of the pantheon fascinating. Though, I'll admit, my scholarly pursuits lean towards history's mysteries and matters of the arcane, and… what's so funny?"

Trying to hide her chuckling behind her hand, Ophilia found she was caught, tickled by some of Cyrus' words. "Oh, it's nothing, Professor Albright. It's just that you rhymed history and mystery. Tickled me a little bit."

The scholar thought on his phrase for a moment, smiling as he realized his word play. "Huh, it would seem so. I'm a poet and I didn't even realize."

"Um, but you missed…"

"Hm?"

"Nothing, professor. Nothing at all," Ophilia said, biting back her words.

 _He really is unaware of his words sometimes,_ she thought humorously.

Cyrus chuckled. Not expecting that reaction, Ophilia wondered off-handedly if he could read minds, as well, before giving him a questioning glance.

The scholar swirled the contents of his glass, allowing the aromatic properties of the port to become enhanced. For a moment, he hummed thoughtfully, for once thinking on his words. It was something that the cleric believed she would see little of, so she patiently waited for Cyrus to speak, lest she interrupt the one chance she might see him take his time thinking. Moments passed before he spoke, the silence between them oddly comforting, even though they had just met earlier that day.

"It has been quite some time since I have found myself in such company, Ophilia," Cyrus finally commented. "I must admit, it is a breath of fresh air. Few I can call companions, I hope that along our journey we can call ourselves such."

With that, the scholar rose his glass in the air. "To new ventures across Orsterra, may they prove as intriguing as they are daunting."

Ophilia smiled, clinking her own glass against his. "To new ventures!"

They drank from their port heartily, before setting their drinks down on the table and sighing happily. A warmth flowed through them, a combination of their beverages and the bond they now shared.

"It's funny," Ophilia commented, circling the rim of her glass with her finger, as she was wont to do. "Before I left Flamesgrace, I stopped at the local tavern there, as well. I often do not partake in such habits, but after the realization of the burden bestowed upon my shoulders caught up with me, I needed something to calm me."

Cyrus listened intently, folding his hands under his chin and gazing at his fellow traveler with intrigued eyes.

Wistfully, the cleric stared into her drink. "There, I met a man named Teller. He provided comforting words when I did not have the strength to conjure them up myself. Then, though my doubts are still there, he eased them, taking some of the pressure of my pilgrimage away from me with him, as we are now doing for each other." She gestured between herself and the scholar, recreating their ties. "But I digress. He told me that he was a bard and that there would be seven other companions awaiting my presence to venture forth themselves on their own journeys; that they would help me as I would help them. After fearing that I would have to face my pilgrimage alone, hearing those words aided me more than I would know. I do not know how he foretold this, but it would seem that what he had said is coming true, wouldn't you think?"

Ophilia's glance drifted up to Cyrus to see him now doing as she had only moments ago and focusing on his drink.

He hummed an affirmative noise before eyeing her cryptically, much like he did with those he scrutinized earlier in the day. Much like them, Ophilia felt slightly unnerved by the action. Meaning to speak, he shook his head and took a drink of his wine, replacing his façade with a charming grin.

"I am sorry, my dear, sometimes I lose control of myself when I have so many questions about a certain topic. Almost interrogated you much like the suspects," the scholar apologized, realizing where his train of thought would take him. Being with a new traveling companion, he did not want to say or act untoward to her. Cyrus continued, "My curiosity was piqued, for you see, I met such a man only a week prior. A burly man? Had a theatrical entrance, like jumping through a window?"

"He jumped through a window!?" Ophilia questioned in shock.

Cyrus chuckled in return. "Yes, Teller did say it was for practical reasons, though. Claimed it was…"

"…to make an entrance," Ophilia finished.

"So, you have met the man?"

"Yes, and his name was Teller, as well. Did he speak directly to you?"

Licking his lips, the scholar partook in his drink once more before continuing his tale. "Not necessarily, no. He came to tell stories, buying people drinks, and seemingly on friendly terms with the barkeep. I think that's what saved him the wrath of the staff, in all honesty. His tales were of times past; of great Hornburg and its fall so many years ago – funny thing, it influenced my lectures. He spoke of an alchemist he sojourned with for some time, a man who could cure any ailment, natural or otherwise. Then, he became more personal with his life, talking of a skilled hunter he drank under the table and beat in dice. It was quite the evening, and I found myself rooted by his charismatic way of storytelling. As were the other patrons, for he made back all he spent, and more, in that night.

"Yet, it was when he was about to leave that we made eye contact. In that moment, I felt like  _I_  was the one being questioned. By a simple glance." Cyrus breathed, finishing his tale, but not before adding, "He is no mere bard, I can tell you this."

Ophilia, feeling her turn to tell her own side of the story, took a drink of her own port. "It would seem so. As I said, he predicted that I would meet seven companions along my pilgrimage who would change my life. Though what will happen remains to be seen, I believe his prediction may be coming to pass. After all, I have met you."

"Why, thank you for believing it was I who he spoke of," Cyrus rose his glass momentarily to Ophilia. "Yet the mystery still remains: who is this man? What is his craft? Is it mystical or mundane?" The scholar chuckled before finishing his wine. "It would seem I have found yet another mystery to solve while on this journey."

The cleric chuckled softly. "Yes, the mystery of the bard."

"Ah, yes! The Mystery of the Bard is what we shall call it. Then I believe we need to find our clues, wouldn't you agree, my dear."

"Indeed, Professor Albright."

The traveling companions could not help but laugh outright from the turn their conversation had took. Much of the possible awkwardness that comes with a new meeting was vanished instantly by the bond they created. Such a feeling, to connect with someone so easily on some level, was a foreign concept to the cleric and scholar. Neither knew how best to convey what they felt, so they simply laughed until their stomachs hurt.

Calming down, Ophilia commented offhandedly. "My, if you hadn't become a professor, you could have well passed for a detective." The wine, it would seem, was stronger than the cleric expected, causing her to act out of character. She stood proudly on her chair, proclaiming to the tavern, "Detective Albright: the doer of good, fighter of shadows, discoverer of mysteries, and keenest intellect in all of Atlasdam!"

Feeling the effects of the port and despite his sides hurting, Cyrus guffawed. "Of course! Yes, yes, my dear! But nay, not just Atlasdam; I daresay all of Orsterra!" At this point, the scholar joined his companion. "No case unsolvable, no duty too difficult, no place for ne'er-do-wells to hide, for my fire will find them!"

Carried away by his acting, Cyrus actually lit a ball of fire and began tossing it around in his hands, all the while laughing. From an outsider's perspective, there were two views: one, that both Cyrus and Ophilia were mad, and would burn the tavern to the ground; two, those who knew the professor also knew that, after a strong port, he would get swept away in his speeches. Albeit, this seemed to be the most creative one so far. Those costumers received no small amount of amusement from the scene, some even cheering the self-titled "detective's" name.

"Detective Albright! Detective Albright! Detective Albright!"

With one last cheer, the two traveling companions sat back in their seats. Cyrus waved at the patrons, while Ophilia's cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her mind caught up with how she had just acted.

"I… I believe this port was quite strong, Professor Albright," Ophilia voiced her concerns meekly, reeling from her embarrassment.

"You are undoubtedly correct my dear. Usually I have half a glass, but it seemed that such an occasion needed a full glass," the scholar admitted. "If we are done with our drinks, it is best we retire for the night. We have a long journey starting tomorrow, and our first clue to this mystery is to find the remaining six companions, would you not agree?"

The cleric joined him while he produced enough leaves to pay for their drinks. Nodding her thanks, Ophilia concurred. "Agreed. Where should we head off to first, then?"

As they exited the tavern, Cyrus thought on his companion's question for a moment. "Should we head northeast? No, that would be far too dangerous with just the two of us. Perhaps through the Frostlands? But then, we would be backtracking… No, no, we must…"

Suddenly a strong breeze blew in from the south. With it came the faint whiff of the ocean. Splashing waves, gulls crying, beaches with warm sand, the sudden gust imprinted this vision in Ophilia's mind. With a smile, she leaned on her staff, turning the direction from where the wind had come from.

"We travel to the Coastlands."

Cyrus joined her, staring off towards where they would inevitably meet the sea. He grinned. "A most excellent decision, Miss Ophilia."

The cleric turned to her partner. "Please, just Ophilia."

Without waiting for his response, the young woman left towards the inn to procure rooms for her and the professor.

Chuckling, Cyrus followed, saying, "Then I will do just that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Departing his towers of books for the field, Cyrus has joined the young cleric, Ophilia._ **
> 
> **_Though traveling for different reasons, the duo had already worked towards a beneficial partnership that would progress forward._ **
> 
> **_Their words mingled in with the tavern of Atlasdam, now joining those that had bled into the establishment’s wooden walls over numerous years._ **
> 
> **_With those words said, they move forward towards the Coastlands, wondering at what their bond with Teller would bring in time…_ **


	3. Tale Three, Tressa

"Cheers to kicking some baddy butt!" Tressa exclaimed, raising her glass to meet her new traveling companions' own. "Without you guys, I don't think the plan would have worked, but it went perfectly! Nick and Nack were none the wiser."

The three adventurers drank. Ophilia was surprised when all she tasted was juice.

"A pleasant change from what we usually drink at taverns, Tressa," the cleric commented happily, enjoying the sweet taste of the fruity nectar. "Rarely do we have anything such as fruit in Flamesgrace, might I ask what this is?"

"Oh, it's plum nectar mixed with grape juice. Makes for an energizing drink. I always have one after a hard day of sales!"

"I have done my research on this drink. It is quite the delicacy around these parts," Cyrus commented before taking a sip. He smiled, "Unsurprisingly, it lives up to its reputation."

"Glad you like it," Tressa beamed. "So, what brings you guys all the way out here to the Coastlands? Seems like a wayward place for travelers to venture to by foot, most people just wander in here on the tide."

"Well, much like you, we each have our own ventures," Cyrus supplied, brushing a strand of his dark hair behind his ear. "Ophilia here is on a pilgrimage from Flamesgrace, while I am doing some field research on missing tomes from Atlasdam."

"Whoa, then you lot have come a long way. You're sure its okay if I come along with you on such important journeys?" the young merchant questioned cautiously.

"Why, of course! We need all the aid we can get," the scholar assured.

Ophilia nodded her head in turn before saying, "Besides, it would seem fate has put our journeys on the same path. While we all have our own ordeals ahead of us, I believe that the Gods knew we would each need help in different ways."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Ophilia," Cyrus complimented. "A beauty in both speech and appearance, truly a majestic woman you are."

Ophilia and Tressa laughed uneasily at the scholar's words. The younger woman whispered behind her hand, "Is he always flirting like this?"

The cleric thought on what the merchant had said for a moment. "Professor Albright does not always understand what he says to others, men and women. Some of the men we met on our way here were stunned by his flowery speech."

Unable to hold back her laughter, Tressa almost fell out of her chair. Instead, she was able to catch herself, her head bobbing and – amusedly noticed by Ophilia – the feather in Tressa's cap following her movements.

"What I would pay to see the looks on their faces. Could make a pretty leaf off of that shock value," the merchant commented once she regained control of herself. "There's an idea! Think Cyrus would go along with it?"

Ophilia sighed worriedly. "I'm not sure that would be…"

"Hey, Professor! Would you be interested in helping me make a few leaves at our next stop?"

Unsure where the merchant was heading with this line of thinking, Cyrus confusedly rejoined the conversation between his two female companions. "Might I ask what this venture would entail, Tressa?"

"Oh, you'll have to wait and see," she replied cryptically. The conniving glint in her eye wasn't missed by her fellows. Within their first day of meeting the merchant, they already knew she would be a tricky one, albeit useful when it came to finding deals on supplies or fighting those who would stand in their way.

"It would seem we truly have found the third member of our group, Ophilia," the professor commented as he drank from his cup.

"What d'ya mean by that, Professor?"

"Well, Tressa, we actually knew we would find another companion to join us in the Coastlands," Ophilia answered. "A bard we both met in our own cities informed me that I would find seven other companions that would aid me on my pilgrimage and I would aid in turn."

"Oh, sounds like a seer or something. I heard about them from one of the sailors in port. They can apparently see into the future. Sounds a bit too fishy to me, but I haven't seen much of the world, so who can say if there isn't someone like that out there?" The young woman smiled from ear-to-ear. "That's what this adventure is for: to see the world!"

The professor chuckled, impressed by Tressa's abundance of curiosity. Maybe, on this venture, he would find a new student to take under his wing. Yet, something else stuck in Cyrus' mind.

"While that is a grand ambition, Tressa, you said you only heard about seers from another sailor? Did you ever meet the man?" the scholar questioned quickly.

"Well, I don't know, Professor. Can't say I met a man like that, what's his name?" Tressa replied truthfully.

"Teller."

"Then, no. Never met someone named that, or a bard wandering around these parts for that matter. Why?"

"Hm… that puts a hole in my working theory, then," Cyrus muttered disappointedly. He took a drink of his juice to refocus his mind. "Teller hasn't met all those we are to meet then, Ophilia."

Making a sound of agreement, the cleric added, "That's what I was wondering, too. It seems he has only met us two so far."

"Then, factoring in how he at least had knowledge of our journeys, it is safe to assume he can see into the future."

"So, he is a seer!? I wanna meet him!" excitedly exclaimed Tressa, much to the amusement of her companions.

"I am sure you will, Tressa. He appears in our travels from time to time, in one way or another," Cyrus reassured. "But, I believe this is a subject for another day. For now, we should welcome our new companion, share in the revelry and victory."

Ophilia giggled. "I agree wholeheartedly, Professor. To Tressa: the future greatest merchant of the Coastlands!"

The trio once again raised their glasses and cheered, happy to be on their journey. None of them knew where their travels would take them, but in moments like these, those who venture into the unknown rarely care. As was the motto of the Coastlands, they would follow the wind and wherever it would take them. For the time being, before returning to the roaring tempest that was journeying throughout Orsterra, they would celebrate the small accomplishments they had made this day. Ordering another round of the tropical beverage they had just finished, the group regaled each other with tales of their past, learning about one another.

First was Ophilia, planning to speak of her time at Flamesgrace quickly, as to make way for what she believed to be more exciting tales of the others' pasts. Her story shortly covered a time when her and her sister, Lianna, had met an alchemist in town, much older than they were at the time. With red cheeks, she relayed how her younger sister had made fun of her for having a small crush on the healer.

Tressa laughed at the cleric's story. "Ah, a case of young love at first sight. Never had a crush myself, did he have a lot of money?"

"No, that wasn't it," Ophilia replied, cheeks deepening in color, but lips tugged in a meek smile at the fond memory. "He helped people for little to nothing, healing their wounds, curing their ills, it was a sight to behold."

"Ah, so you like the nice guys. Never met one here, someone always has a business angle attached to them."

"I… guess that's it. But, whether that's true or not, it was a puppy crush, nothing like love at first sight."

"You speak true, Ophilia, but perhaps, someday, if such a man were to enter your life again, you would feel that way," Cyrus commented. While meaning to speak plain, the words came off as coy, causing the cleric to turn into a stuttering mess.

"That's… I-I mean, it's not like… Oh…"

Giggling, Tressa decided to take pity on the poor woman. "Ah, come on, Professor, I think that's enough joking with Ophilia."

"Who was joking?" he intoned seriously.

Unused to Cyrus's ways of speaking, the merchant simply glossed over it and continued. "Right… well, maybe we should move on to the next person. Which is me!"

Tressa immediately jumped into her story, telling her tale excitedly, not missing any emotion. While the tale itself was not terribly interesting – it was of a deal she made while perusing the marketplace in Rippletide – her energized attitude kept Cyrus and Ophilia intrigued in the marketing adventure.

"And in the end, I saved at least one hundred leaves!" Tressa chuckled. "Poor guy didn't know what hit him."

In boast, the merchant took a swig of her drink, trying to act the tough part she had seen many times portrayed by the sailors looking for a pint at the end of a rough day at sea. While that façade of her character wasn't fooling her companions, they did enjoy the tale.

"Well-spoken, my dear!" Cyrus congratulated. "You have a knack for storytelling. The way you add your energy while weaving together your words spoke of your skills as a bard. Perhaps you should begin compiling a list of tales yourself along our journey."

"That is what I wanna do, Professor. After all, this journal," the merchant produced the leather-bound book from her pack "will be filled with my own adventures soon enough, plus the treasure that we'll find along the way."

"Then it is good practice. I eagerly await the day I can add  _Tressa's Tales: A Merchant's Ventures through Orsterra_ to my bookshelf."

"Yeah, yeah! That's good, mind if I buy that idea off of you, Professor?"

"It is yours to take. I only ask that the second copy of your manifest become mine. The first is yours, after all."

"When I have the journal, who needs the original copy? That would be better in your hands."

"We have a deal, then," Cyrus concluded, extending his hand.

The merchant shook it eagerly. "That we do, good sir. A pleasure doing business with you!"

To mark their first deal as traveling companions they took lasting swigs of their drinks, reaching the bottom of their cups. Satisfied, Tressa let out a small burp, muttering, "Excuse me" before returning her attention to the scholar.

"Now it's your turn, Professor. You have to have a story or two from teaching in Atlasdam."

"If you count teaching the academics of tomorrow as a story, then I have many to share, Tressa," Cyrus beamed. "Why, I had this student a year ago who was a studier of ancient civilizations, archaeology and the like. From his latest correspondence with me, he seems to be plunging into a tomb of an ancient civilization far in the depths of the Woodlands. I warned him of the indigenous tribes and snakes around that region, but I doubt he heeded my advice. He always hated those slithering reptiles."

"Um, Professor…?" Tressa tried to stop the scholar before he continued. Even though she tried to put a word in, Cyrus was already rambling. The merchant said to Ophilia, "He really likes his speeches, huh?"

"I haven't traveled with Professor Albright long, but, from what I can tell, it would seem so," the cleric sighed good-naturedly.

"Then we might be here awhile…"

As the two women exchanged defeated words, the professor continued on about his prized prodigy over his short tenure. His students ranged from a young man interested in zoology, particularly magical creatures, to a woman who practiced magic, wishing to start her own school to pass down the arcane arts. It seemed Cyrus taught every subject to everyone who wished to learn. If he didn't know a particular study, then he would read up on it until he was a veritable expert on the topic. While the stories themselves were needlessly elongated, the professor's traveling companions still found themselves interested in the lecture.

"…and there was this one student, I cannot quite remember his name, but he sang as he worked. Something about being 'the very model of a scientist Orsterran.' Poor lad passed away though trying to help an infertile tribe far to the west reproduce once more." Cyrus shook his head solemnly, before brightening and returning to his tale. "Sent me a letter once though, spoke of a shepherd he was following. An odd one he was, but far surpassed even my brilliance. Then there was…"

Tressa raised her hand, hoping to catch the scholar before he spoke anymore about his students. "Um, Professor?"

Noticing the merchant, and out of habit, Cyrus handed the floor to her. "Yes, Tressa?"

"While we like your stories about your pupils, wouldn't it be a good idea to save them for another time? After all, we may need an inspiring story further down the line."

Smiling, the professor pointed at the young woman. "An excellent point. I believe we should reconvene at a later date, then. I have numerous stories about my teachings at Atlasdam, ones that would be better to share with more people."

"Exactly!" Tressa grinned, happy that the scholar agreed. "I think its best we turn in for the night. We have a long day of traveling to the Highlands tomorrow."

"The Highlands?" Ophilia asked.

"Yeah! That's the first place I wanna see. I've only ever seen sand and ocean, but mountains? They're just shadows in the distance."

Tressa stood from her seat, followed by her companions. "The treasures that await us there… oh, I can't wait! It has to be our first stop, it just has to!"

For a moment, the cleric thought on the idea before nodding her head. "You know, that sounds like a good idea. We may find another of our fellow travelers that way, as well. What do you think, Professor?"

"I believe the Highlands would be a brilliant place for our adventures to continue," Cyrus agreed happily. "Then let us rent rooms at the inn to rest up. Tomorrow, we depart towards the mountainous Highlands!"

Tressa cheered excitedly, while Ophilia giggled. The trio walked through the doorway of the tavern, inspired and ready to travel forth into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**From the long beaches of the Coastland, these adventurers continued their travels.** _
> 
> _**Once again, coming to Rippletide, Ophilia had come across a venturous soul, wishing to go on her own journey across Orsterra.** _
> 
> _**Teller's predictions seemed to be coming true, the cleric surmised, so who would they next encounter?** _
> 
> _**Only time would tell as the mountains of the Highlands beckoned their heed, wishing to serve as a place of adventures and treasure…** _


	4. Tale Four, Olberic

"A knight from the Lost Kingdom of Hornburg. Never would I believe that I would meet such a man of honor on our journey," Cyrus exclaimed, almost fawning over the ethnographic research he could accomplish by speaking with Olberic Eisenberg. "Had I known whilst we were battling those bandits, I would have taken the time to examine you more studiously!"

The knight-turned-wanderer of mention drank greedily from his mug, enjoying the warmth of the alcohol after a long day of fighting. It was one of life's few simple pleasures. With drink in hand, the myriad of questions that had already been asked of him by the scholar were hardly affecting him. He simply smiled.

"Don't worry, Professor, in our journeys there shall be many victories to come. You will see my fighting style then. But you're a studious type, so might I ask why you wish to examine how I battle?"

"Well, as a scholar of knowledge, researching the fighting methods passed down by a kingdom gone will produce immeasurable data!"

Unknowingly, the warrior had opened a box of questions that would be thrown his way well into the morning. Upon noticing where Cyrus was heading with his train of thought, Tressa – after finishing her drink in one fell swig – interrupted the scholar.

"Hold it, hold it! Professor, I think we should save the questions for another time," the merchant spoke, uninhibited in her speech as the strong stout did its work. "After all, we just defeated a gang of baddies, we should be celebrating! And hearing some stories from our new friend."

Taking a sip of his own stout, the scholar thought for a moment before nodding. "My dear, you are right, sometimes I lose myself in my research. Pray tell, can we continue this research later, Sir Eisenberg?"

The warrior chuckled. "It is not 'Sir Eisenberg' anymore, you can call me Olberic, Professor. As for the questions, I will be honored to aid in preserving the knowledge of Hornburg."

"Of course, Olberic! Anytime you wish, I am willing. After all, a scholar's job is from sun up until sun down."

"Then I await that day."

The two men clinked their mugs together, drinking hardly to seal their deal.

Meanwhile, Ophilia watched the conversations taking place from the outside, simply enjoying being able to listen to her companions for the time being. It was a small amount of joy, but one that warmed her body in this land that was almost as cold as the Frostlands. Upon thinking of her homeland, the cleric stared into her drink, wondering how His Excellency and Anna were fairing.

"Ophilia!"

The exclamation from Tressa brought the cleric out of her brief reverie. She flashed her companions a small smile, noticing the red that had spread across the merchant's face. "Yes, Tressa?"

"You… haven't drank hardly anything!" Tressa accused drunkenly. Apparently, it only took the one drink to render the young woman intoxicated. "Come on! I drank my mug in one go, so you should have nooooo trouble!" A small hiccup accompanied her, somehow still, coherent words.

The cleric stared into her drink. After taking even a whiff of the stout, she knew it would be extremely strong for her taste. Forget the taste, the scent of the alcohol caused Ophilia to already feel heady. She glanced at Cyrus and Olberic, both drinking from the mugs as they eyed their companion with little expression, more intrigue. Finishing their drinks, and still appearing in control of themselves, spoke to the men's constitution.

Sighing, Ophilia decided to bite the arrow. Taking a sip, the potent drink seemed to slam into the back of her head, causing her to cough. The remaining group of travelers chuckled at the sight.

"Take it slow, Ophilia," Olberic commented with a smirk. "Drinks in the Highlands are as strong as the mountains. This brew, in particular, is a specialty of Cobbleston."

"Is that so?" Ophilia responded at the end of her coughing fit. Before speaking again, she took another sip to clear her throat, better prepared for the drink. Even after considering the potency and taste, the stout still hit her stomach hard. "Would this be why the town is full of hardy individuals?"

The warrior guffawed. "That, and the food. Breeds tough men and proud women. Drinking this stout reminds me why I stayed here for as long as I have. I will miss this town, but there is a journey I must take."

"Oh, that is such a badass, knightly thing to say! What is it?" Tressa interrupted excitedly, jumping to her feet and leaning on the table. "Could it be to find a missing prince? Or to slay a dragon!? Wait, wait, I know! You need to save a princess from a devilish monster guarding a tall tower in a volcano in the Canyonlands!"

Olberic, though speaking seriously, rubbed the back of his head, entertained by the young merchant. "Those are fantastical ideas, Tressa, far too fantastical for my own tale, mind you. Mine is a more personal matter that, for the time being, I wish to keep to myself."

"Aw… 's no fair…"

At Tressa's pouting, the warrior chuckled warmly. "Don't worry. Someday, you will know my tale. For now, let us celebrate and toast to our budding group of vagabonds."

"Here, here!" Ophilia chimed, her face turning red from her drink. "To Olberic! The Unbending Blade!"

"Here, here!"

Glasses thudded happily as the group clinked their mugs together. Cyrus and Olberic finished theirs off at the same time, waving the waitress over for another almost as soon as their empty mugs hit the table. Ophilia, meanwhile, still had half of her stout left. A burp escaped her lips, causing her cheeks to lighten up even more as she covered her mouth with a distressed noise.

"Excuse me…" she mumbled.

Tressa laughed hysterically at the sight. "It's so adorable when you get embarrassed, Ophilia. Even more so when you burp!"

"Tressa…"

"No, no. She is right, my dear. There is a certain attractiveness in a woman blushing. Perhaps it's a man's want to cause such a reaction?" the scholar inquired as he unintentionally flirted with the cleric. "Even so, it is a delight for most to see a beautiful lady's cheeks light up like the horizon surrounding a rising sun."

"Professor…" Ophilia mumbled, the redness in her face only growing deeper.

"What flowery words, Professor Albright. A bachelor through and through, I suppose," Olberic commented as the two men received their new drinks.

They both took a sip before Cyrus retorted dramatically.

"Bachelor I am, but only in marriage. In profession, I am dutifully wedded to my studies."

"Married to your profession? A good man, but do not forget to enjoy that which you reap."

"And I do just that, Olberic."

"To doing just that."

The two men raised their drinks, with Ophilia sluggishly meeting theirs and Tressa holding her empty mug upside down as all four travelers brought their stouts together in yet another toast.

"It would seem you are able to hold your drink well, Professor Albright," Olberic commented, feeling some of the initial effects of his beverage. "I can't even tell if you are actually drinking, or if you switched your stout out for something softer."

"Well, if you wish to test the genuineness of my constitution, have a sip yourself," Cyrus reassured with a smirk, offering his mug to the warrior.

Instincts dulled by the alcohol, Olberic ignored them and snatched the proffered drink from the scholar's hand. "I'll do just that!"

Cautious, as to not drink too much, the warrior took a sip before returning the container to its owner. Wiping his face, Olberic commented, "Yup, that's a drink all right! Seems to be much stronger than mine, too. What in hells' names do you have in there, professor?"

Cyrus sat his drink on the table. "This drink, Olberic, is a concoction of mine, in that I asked the bartender to add a splash of firewater to the base stout. It is a drink I occasionally ask for back in Atlasdam after a long day's research. Usually puts the spirit right back in me, if I do say so myself."

"Wish I knew that recipe myself, could have used it a few days of my life," Olberic drawled. For a moment, his mind lamented on his fallen liege, thinking back to the treachery from his closest friend. The stout thinking more than his mind, it was, but he still couldn't help to feel the familiar sorrow of losing his kingdom.

"Could use it now, actually," the former knight of Hornburg whispered, hoping his sullen words would not be heard. Not an actor or patron of the performing arts, his demeanor and expression were all too easily read by Cyrus and Ophilia.

"Hornburg was a staunch kingdom," the professor comforted, placing his hand on the warrior's shoulder. "I know not what you seek on your journey, save having it to do with avenging your king. What I do know is that you honor its lineage in battle."

A dull smile peeked on Olberic's face. "There are those flowery words again, Professor."

"You'll have to get used to it, Olberic," Ophilia spoke wholeheartedly, throwing her proper speech out the door as she drank more of her flagon. "We are traveling companions now, after all. Perhaps, someday, when we are friends, we can rely on each other to better continue our journeys."

"Thanks to you, Ophilia. You are right." Olberic brightened up at their words, already beginning to form a trust with his newfound allies. "For now, though, we travel to find our other companions. Four remain, correct?"

"Indubitably. We shall travel to the Sunlands next to better acquaint ourselves with both the territory and undoubtedly find a willing addition to our company," Cyrus affirmed. "Teller's tales are unfolding as he predicted."

"From the few words you have spoken of the bard, it would seem so. Truly wonderous."

"Yes, I ponder when we will meet him again, though I believe that day is fast approaching, in a tavern in lands we have yet traversed," Cyrus contemplated. "Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. For now, these taverns will serve as a place of respite and drink. Speaking of, Olberic, have the remainder of mine. I am afraid my constitution is lessened in this higher elevation, so I could use the respite."

Noticing something behind Cyrus, Olberic smirked, hiding his laughter for the moment. "Gladly, Professor, but I believe Tressa has claimed that task."

"Hm?"

Cyrus and Ophilia turned towards the youngest member of their trio, noticing too late that she had swiped the scholar's drink while he wasn't watching. Just as she had with her first alcoholic beverage, Tressa was now chugging away at the dangerous brew of Highland stout and firewater. Before anyone could stop her, she finished the drink with a satisfying sound, red now highlighting her cheeks and her lithe body swaying in her chair.

"Wowza! That sure is something, Pro… Profes… Professor, um… Aldim…?" Tressa slurred, a dangerous drunken haze overtaking her. "Albright! Wait, no, that's it! That's it… Yeah…"

Taking full effect, the alcohol in the merchant's system hit her like a stampeding goat, knocking her over on her chair. She fell to the floor hard, causing the rest of her companions to jump out of their seats to help her. Expecting to see a messy sight before them, the group instead found Tressa happily snoozing away in a drunkard's dream.

Relieved that she was at least unharmed, Tressa's companions smiled and shook their heads, amused by the young merchant's antics.

"I believe it is time for bed, then," Olberic stated. "We must be prepared for tomorrow, after all. The Sunlands are no place for mistakes. Here, I'll take her."

Coming around to Tressa's side, the warrior carried the merchant with ease, picking her up in his arms bridal style. Not knowing who was holding her, Tressa snuggled into Olberic earning a round of chuckles from the group.

They made to leave the tavern then, trudging to the local inn: Olberic carrying Tressa, Cyrus her pack, and Ophilia sneaking the last of her ale past the bartender.

In the moonlight, their silhouettes resembled that of a happy band, marching to the beat of their own tunes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**In the Highlands, warmth is a scarce necessity that must be regulated well:** _
> 
> _**too hot, one would catch themselves alight in a fire; too cold, one would find themselves frozen atop one of the region's myriad of mountains.** _
> 
> _**Yet there was always one sure way to secure such a necessity in such a cold, rugged land.** _
> 
> _**That is, circle yourself amongst friends, with stories to tell, food to eat, and hearty drink.** _
> 
> _**Amongst this group of companions, to survive their journeys, they would need to keep this warmth securely blanketed over themselves…** _


End file.
